


The Gold Nightgown

by imagineagreatadventure



Series: JB Week 2017 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: Jaime and Brienne find themselves together in a bedroom on their wedding night.





	The Gold Nightgown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [openmouthwideeye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/openmouthwideeye/gifts).



> This is a very silly fic inspired by a conversation openmouthwideeye and I had on tumblr ;) 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! (also sorry no smut guys - if that's what you're here for! just lots of fluff)

“This is Jaime,” his father said, introducing him to Lord Selwyn with high-mannered airs. He looked like a villain from the new talkies, Jaime thought, almost amused. But it was hard to be amused in his current predicament. 

“This is Brienne,” her father said, introducing them both to his daughter with the sort of pragmatism Jaime had come to expect from Stormlanders.

Jaime had been betrothed to Brienne when she was just a little girl and he a little boy -- his gold for her sapphires -- as if they were still living in the _ Age of Heroes. _ Jaime had hoped Brienne would become pretty. There was no one that could be as beautiful as his sister, but, perhaps, she wouldn’t be an eyesore. 

Unfortunately, she was worse than an eyesore. Bobbing her head up and down in a strange sort of nod she reminded Jaime of a donkey.  _ She’s turning me into an ass _ , he thought, sour. He knew Cersei would laugh at him later. At the moment, his sister was keeping her head on straight although he knew if he looked over at her, she’d smirk.

Brienne was taller than him which he misliked -- especially as she was still only a girl. A girl just a few months shy of nineteen. 

But his father seemed to like the look of her -- Tywin Lannister’s mouth had a strange hint of a smile as he glanced Jaime’s bride over. It was her strong frame, Jaime knew. No babe would kill this one even if Jaime had wished it. “It is lovely to meet you,” Jaime gritted out, kissing Brienne’s proffered hand. 

She startled at his touch, quickly removing her hand from his mouth. “Thank you.”

Jaime almost laughed at her expression but kept his face still. Although he was sure something had been expressed in his eyes for the ugly girl almost looked affronted. She said nothing, however, too well-bred to say much of anything at all.  _ Or perhaps, _ Jaime reflected,  _ too dull _ .

* * *

The wedding was a sham-and-a-half and Jaime had been dreading the moment where he’d be forced into a bedroom with the girl, wishing his sister was inside it instead. But Cersei had left him to look for her husband -- a drunken sot much too fond of _the help_ \-- and, well, he had not **_seen_** her since her marriage a year past. She lived abroad now as she so liked to remind him in her letters and was a married woman to a rich and handsome lord, a fact she enjoyed _lording_ over all her other friends. If Cersei could call them friends.

Jaime supposed Brienne now had the same bragging rights as his sister -- marriage to a rich and handsome lord. Most girls her age were forced into service or factories to help pay for family debts -- Brienne was only forced into marrying him. “So,” he said to her, watching as she surveyed the room like a general surveying the battlefield. He wished he could think of something witty to say but her blue-eyed gaze immobilized his tongue. 

_ She had a golden heart, _ he had heard from the servants who spoke of her kind nature, but he saw none of that now in front of him. No, this girl looked afraid and angry. She looked like she had no heart at all let alone a golden one. “I am not making love,” she told him. 

Jaime laughed and laughed, needing to place his hand on the nightstand to steady himself. “Making love?” he asked, wiping away his tears. “Of all things you choose to call it that?”

A golden, stupid heart, it seemed. Surprise of all surprises -  _ the girl was a romantic. _ Jaime had been one of those once before the war but seeing men die shitting themselves tended to cure any romantic nature. Especially when half the days were full of boredom in the trenches. 

She glared at him. “Call it whatever you’d like, but I will not be doing… that.”

“With me,” Jaime finished before erupting in another burst of laughter. 

When he looked up he was surprised to find a flash of hurt in her big, blue eyes.  _ You’ve done it again, you sot. _ “I will not force you to do anything,” he said to her, trying to mend whatever wound he opened up with his laughter.

Whatever hurt she had was reburied quickly, she had a golden ferocity to her now. “You would never be able to force me to do anything,” she said, looking almost comically defiant in her white wedding dress. 

Jaime didn’t dare laugh again, however, wondering, instead, how he would have taken her if she had allowed it. A silly, strange line of thought considering he’d never want her in his bed but… “We must share the bed though,” he told her. “I am not enough of a gentleman to sleep on the floor.”

Brienne bit her bottom lip. Large lips, he noticed, suddenly wondering if they were soft. “Fine,” she said. “But we can line the pillows up between us.”

Jaime couldn’t help but laugh at that. “We are already nearly too large for this bed together, let’s at least try to be comfortable during the night.” It was truly a small bed -- something that Jaime suspected his father had a hand in. 

Brienne didn’t seem to like what he said but she nodded anyhow and went into the bathroom that was attached to their room to change into whatever pajamas she had. Jaime took off his own pants and shirt and while he would have enjoyed the look on her face if she had come out with him only in his underthings, he decided to take pity on the younger girl and wear the pressed pajamas he brought with him.

“Are you ready?” she asked from the other side of the door. Her voice was only a bit muffled and Jaime smiled at hearing it. 

“Yes, yes,” he said, already laying in bed. There were far too many pillows surrounding him and so he had kept occupied while waiting with arranging and rearranging them. It was better to do that then think of what he could have been doing tonight. With Cersei in his dreams and Brienne in his reality. 

She came out with a sour expression that almost made him laugh again but he turned away. “Does that even fit you?” he choked out.

“They didn’t bring me my pajamas,” she said, by way of explanation. When he looked back at her, she was standing by the edge of the bed fiddling with her gold nightdress. It was something that wouldn’t even flatter Cersei. It was much too decorative and frilly to please anyone’s looks. 

A stab of pity hit his heart and before he thought of what he was saying, he spoke. “Then let’s change. You’ll wear my pajamas and I’ll wear that ugly thing. You’re bigger than me so it’ll fit.”

Brienne’s jaw dropped. “I-I-I what?!”

He had only said it to see her horrified reaction (which was coming about very pleasingly) but suddenly he thought it was actually a rather good idea. It’d at least soften her up around him so she wouldn’t become a complete bore. They may not make love this night but at least he could make her laugh. “Let’s try it,” he said, bounding out of bed and removing his shirt. Brienne flushed at the sight of his bare chest and he grinned back at her, amused and a little relieved. For a moment, he wondered if she wasn’t attracted to him but it seemed that was not the case. “Well,” he said, handing her his shirt. “I can take off the pants too if you’d like.”

This statement awoke Brienne’s inner governess. “Now wait -- this is ridiculous.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Jaime said. “This forced marriage is ridiculous -- it’s not as if we’re living in the Long Night or the Age of Heroes. We’re a modern man and woman, are we not? So let’s ridicule this marriage.”

Brienne hesitated but something in her must have clicked because she ran back into the bathroom and within moments her pale, muscular arm was sticking out the door, her hand clutching the golden nightdress. Jaime took it, amused, removed his pants and gave them to Brienne’s hand before putting on the dress.

The nightdress was surprisingly comfortable -- very silky and not at all scratchy despite the added  _ decorations _ \-- and Brienne’s height ensured that it fit him well. “You can come out now,” he told her. 

She came out looking much better than he did in Jaime’s white and blue striped pajamas. She almost looked pretty, he thought, surprised. Her shoulder-length hair somehow looked less like straw and more like gold when she wore his pajamas compared to when she wore the golden nightdress. “You look ridiculous,” Brienne informed him.

Something in her tone made him think she was trying not to laugh and so he smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said. “You actually look quite good, you know.”

Brienne’s blue eyes widened and then she looked away. “Bed?” she offered instead.

He, for a short, stupid moment, thought she meant the other meaning -- the more common meaning of  _ bed _ on a wedding night -- but then remembered. “Yes, of course,” he said, piling himself in, enjoying the soft mattress. “Goodnight, my dear wife.”

He could hear and feel her shifting on her side of the bed. “Good night,” she said and then, almost as an afterthought, added, “ _ Jaime _ .”

Had Brienne ever called him by name before? Jaime couldn’t recall but suddenly wished she was saying it in a much different way. He thought of palming himself through the ugly gold nightdress but decided it would be a poor discovery for his new wife. “Good night, Brienne,” he said instead.

And then promptly fell asleep. 

He awoke in the middle of the night to find Brienne in his arms, clutching his chest and snoring loudly, her nose buried in the crook of his neck.

It was the snoring that woke him up. Still, he didn’t find that he minded it as much as he should. Perhaps it was that he was lonely and she was there, but he kissed the top of her head, amused at how her straw-colored hair was strewn across her forehead.  _ Maybe this marriage won’t be as terrible as I feared.  _

_ Maybe it would be better.  _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As I stated in my first JB work of this week, I'm trying to rec other JB stories in the end notes! So if you'd like this you'll probably like:  
>  **[Only When I Sleep](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3725299#main) \- by Coraleeveritas:**  
>  _There are some things Jaime only can admit to when Brienne is sleeping._
> 
> **[Brienne v. The Book Club](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3562595/chapters/7847216#main) \- by Lady_in_Red:**  
>  _Newly-partnered spies Jaime and Brienne are sent to suburban Gulltown to investigate their handler’s new brother-in-law, Petyr Baelish. It should be a simple assignment, except for two small issues: they’re playing a married couple and they can’t stand each other._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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